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Lawrence, George A. (George Alfred), 1827-1876

"Guy Livingstone; or, 'Thorough'"

As it was, they stood manfully to their oars,
straining every muscle to reach us; there was no other safety for them
then. "They will never get alongside in time, unless we bear down to
meet them," Livingstone said, "and what chance will they have in ten
minutes hence?"
Riddell was only half satisfied. His creed evidently was that a sailor's
first duty is to his own ship; but neither he nor any one else ever
argued with Guy. "As you like, sir," he grumbled, somewhat
discontentedly. "Keep her full, Saunders; we shall fetch them so."
If a stitch of sail had been taken off our vessel she could never have
reached the _barca_, though her crew strove hard to meet us. She forged
down slowly enough as it was, but we were just in time to take them on
board.
"Reef every thing now!" Riddell shouted, leaping himself first into the
rigging like a wild-cat. "Cheerily, men--with a will!" All his ill-humor
was gone when the peril became imminent.
We were strong-handed, and the four Capriotes did us seaman's service;
but it was "touch and go." The last man had scarcely reached the deck
when the line of foam was within half-cable's length. Then there came a
sound unlike any I had ever heard before in the elements, beginning with
a whistling sort of scream and deepening into a roar as of many angry
voices, bestial and human, striving for the mastery; and then the
_Petrel_ staggered and reeled over almost on her beam-ends, in the midst
of a white boiling caldron of mad water.


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